Part One: Words of a Child
Beast Boy wasn't the smartest person in the world. His joking nature tended to add to that impression. Never take anything seriously, always act so shallow and pleasure-seeking—or so he seemed. But if Beast Boy never thought with his head, he at least thought with his heart.
Sure, when he had heard Robin had…had shot Slade, he hadn't been the most supportive. He had gone into silence, so shocking was the news. Robin shooting someone? Bogus stuff—had to be. Robin never lost control, ever.
But once the reality of it finally sunk in, after Beast Boy's heart had accepted the truth, he got off his butt and stomped over to Robin's room. Robin had done something horrible, by any superhero's standard. Even if Slade lived, the act was reprehensible to everything that the Boy Wonder stood for. Even Beast Boy could figure out what that meant.
"I mean," the green-furred teen said to himself, "if I hurt someone real bad, I'd feel lousy. And I'd definitely like someone to talk to."
And right now, he knew a friend needed who a friend to talk to.
Maybe he should have knocked on the door, but if he stopped to do that, he might have had time to think. And if he thought, then he would have lost his nerve. So Beast Boy just burst in, forcing a smile on his face.
Even before he could say anything, Robin's haunted voice whispered, "Go away."
But Beast Boy wouldn't be put off so easily. "Look, Robin, I can't say I know what you're going through, but I'm not leaving until you talk to me. Talking always helps me out with problems. You know, telling jokes and stuff and all that. But think about it—if you don't work your way through this, I'll only have Cyborg to play video games with. And where's the fun in beating him all day?"
"…Go away, Beast Boy."
The green-furred teen walked into the dismal room and sat down beside Robin; Robin cringed away from Beast Boy's proximity. "Look, Robin, just talk to me. I mean, yeah, I'm probably not the best person to talk your problems to, but I'm willing to listen."
Beast Boy scratched his head in frustration. "Damn it, that didn't come out the way I wanted it to. Um, how to put it? We…I…well, we're worried, Robin. You've never been like this before. Talk to us. Please. You know we're all here for you, right? So talk to us about it.
"I mean, I can't count the times Raven and Starfire have talked to you about their problems. And Cyborg and I go to you if something comes up. We're going to return the favor. Not because we have to, of course. Er, yeah, that didn't come out right either. Let me try again.
"Talk to us, Robin. Because we're your friends. And friends always stick together. So talk to us."
Beast Boy knew he was rambling. But it was the only way he knew how to bare his soul, to say what he really wanted to say. He only hoped that he got through to Robin.
He didn't.
"I have nothing to say."
Part Two: Words of a Brother
Cyborg tried next. When he entered, he didn't say anything at first. The burly Titan stood behind Robin's still form. It used to be so easy to talk to Robin…before all this. They were like brothers, after a fashion. So easy. Now a wall, insurmountable and unbreakable, had risen between them, walling one of them from everyone else.
"Robin," Cyborg said quietly, "how are you doing, man?" It was awkward, it was nosy. But Cyborg couldn't think of any other way to break the deafening silence.
Robin said nothing.
"Talk to me, Rob. You know you can talk to me. Don't go at it alone, man. It'll eat you up inside, you know it will."
Robin turned to face him, and his glare was as sharp as a knife, as cold as ice. "What gives you the right to make that call, Cyborg?" he hissed angrily. "You have no idea what I'm going through."
Cyborg was taken aback by the venom in Robin's voice, but he continued. "Then tell me. Let me help you, Rob."
Robin turned his head away again. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you. You don't know."
"So tell me so I can know!" Cyborg pressed, beginning to feel a little irritated by Robin's lone wolf mentality. The Teen Titans were team, he thought, so why won't Robin play like a team player?
Silence from Robin. Long, endless, dark silence. And then, "You wouldn't understand," he said again, an edge of cruelty in his voice, an edge of desperate savagery. "You couldn't understand. This isn't something that can be told. You just have to know."
"Damn it, Rob…."
"You're just like Beast Boy."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Robin's voice grew even colder. "It means that you're both fools, kids. You go about playing at this superhero thing without a goddamn care in the world. I…I was too. I—we—we're all such fucking idiots. Goddamn it." He lowered his head, his cursing trailing off into mumbling.
Cyborg, at a loss for words, silently left the room.
Part Three: Words of a Princess
Starfire didn't want to go in there. She had seen Beast Boy and Cyborg, heard them say how Robin didn't want to talk. How withdrawn he had become. When Slade was sent to the hospital, Robin had cried; there were no tears now. Just…resignation.
Oh, Robin, Starfire thought, if you don't talk to us, you'll destroy yourself.
So she went in.
She didn't say anything and he didn't either. The silence wrapped around them like a cloak. But it did not offer warmth or comfort. It was suffocating, murdering. But she took every step toward him. She didn't say anything when she knelt by him and took him into her embrace. He didn't say anything either.
Starfire had read some flighty romance novels and watched a few films out of curiosity. By her estimation of Earth courting rituals, Robin should have leaned into her touch, should have acknowledged her somehow. But he didn't. He just sat there, unmoving. He could have been a rock. He could have been a corpse. He could have been as still as the man he had shot.
Tears fell from her eyes, landed unheeded and unnoticed on Robin's shoulder. He didn't care. Sitting, unmoving. Uncaring.
Starfire would sit there beside him, arms around him, for a very long time. But his silence and coldness would eventually drive her away. She would leave his room in tears, a silent prayer on her lips: oh, gods in heaven, save this poor young man. Save him from himself.
She would wonder if they even heard her plea.
Part Four: Words of a Listener
When Raven went to the room, she found it empty. Robin had left. A quick scan on the computer detected him on the roof. She found him sitting with his feet dangling over the edge and his cape billowing behind him. His hands were between his thighs and his chin cushioned against his chest. To a casual observer, he could have been asleep, so still was he.
But Raven noticed the occasional shuddering sob, a subtle shift of the shoulders. Raven was good at self-control and discipline, but she knew Robin was a true master. He could balance the focus of a detective and martial artist with the carefree mentality of a hot-blooded teenager. The dichotomy was remarkable, for he could embrace both passion and dispassion with such ease, gaining total control over himself and his emotions.
To see him in this state, with his sorrow and despair on the verge of consuming him, Raven's heart went out to him. Her leader, her friend. Her shattered, precious friend. "Robin," she said stiffly, unaccustomed to starting a conversation.
His head didn't turn, but she saw his muscles tense. He became immovable. Oh, Robin, she thought, what kind of hell are you going through, my friend?
"I don't want to talk, Raven."
She flew to his side and sat down beside him. "That's all right. I don't like talking, either." It could have been a joke, but Raven never joked. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to sit here."
Robin said nothing and neither did she. They sat there for a long time, listening to the wind howl around them, dancing through their capes. Raven shivered, the chill night air finally getting to her. She tugged her cape around her, taking special care to wrap the cloth around her bare legs. Robin didn't stir in the slightest. But he did turn to look at her in concern.
"You should go inside," he said. "You'll catch a cold out here."
"A cold is only a problem of the body," Raven replied. "They go away. Ills go away, wounds heal. You might have a few scars, maybe a little weakness. But that's all. The problems of the mind are what plague you, Robin."
Robin looked at her suspiciously. "I thought you didn't want to talk."
"You didn't either," she reminded him, "but you spoke first. Courtesy dictates I continue the conversation."
"You're not baiting me, Raven," he warned.
"I'd rather not," she agreed, "but remember, you spoke first. So clearly, you want to talk, even if you're too stubborn to admit it. So let's talk."
Robin reluctantly opened his mouth, but Raven pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him.
She looked him in the eyes, purple locking intensely with brown. Holding and mesmerizing, haunting and wise. And then she spoke, "You shouldn't talk unless you want to, Robin. Really want to. If you don't, I'll understand; I don't like talking much, after all. But if you do, I'll be here to listen." Then she took her finger away.
Robin looked away from her and remained quiet for a long moment. Raven thought he would stay that way and felt disheartened by it. But then he spoke. "I…I think I'm ready to talk about it, now." He looked at her, face tight and serious, but finally ready to reconcile. "Thanks for not being pushy about it, Raven."
A ghost of a smile crossed her pale face, curled her small lips. "I noticed the others were trying to force you to talk. I know how annoying that can be." She turned to face him, folding her legs together, giving him her undivided attention. "So, if you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen."
Robin closed his eyes. "As a kid, I was a trapeze artist in a wandering circus. My parents and I would do a lot of really dangerous stunts. But it was always fun. I was a natural, they always said. Then someone wanted to force us and the rest of circus to pay 'protection money.' We didn't want to. They sabotaged my parents' act. It…it killed them."
He started to turn his face away, so Raven wouldn't see his tears. But then he thought about how silly it would be to try and save his pride since he was baring his soul to her. So he let the tears fall.
"The circus stopped being fun after that. I guess that's how I thought about the Titans. It was fun. I was free. Batman wasn't breathing down my neck and being an asshole, for one thing. I felt alive, being with you guys. Crimefighting became a game, I guess. And then…." He trailed off, unable to finish as his throat closed up in a sob.
Raven finished it for him. "And then it stopped being fun. Because of Slade." Her normally distant tone was compassionate now. It was surprising how easily she could fall into the role of compassionate listener, how sincere and comforting her quiet words were. Robin felt like he was speaking to a kindred spirit, someone who somehow understood.
"Yeah. Because of Slade." He sighed. "You know, I found out he has a last name. Wilson. Slade Wilson."
Raven blinked. "That's a pretty, um, stout name. Almost silly, in a way."
"I guess. A step above Dick Grayson, that's for sure. But it means that he's…well…like us. All this time, I thought he was this nameless, faceless villain. A damned good one, a genius among geniuses—but I never once thought of him as a human being. I guess that's what was bothering me. I hurt, really hurt, a human being. And what scares is wondering when I'll do it again."
Raven dared to lay a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't rebuffed. Robin leaned into her touch, which became an embrace. She held him close, let his head rest against her collarbone. He could heart her heartbeat.
"Batman always told me that life was precious," he whispered. "That we were never to use lethal force, even in self-defense. He told me that life was sacred, sanctified, precious. I agreed with all that, but I never understood why. But Batman knew why—he saw his parents gunned down. When he went after his first bad guy, I'll bet he wanted to kill him. But he must have seen the terror in their eyes, the same terror in his father's eyes. In his mother's. That must have been when he understood.
"I never saw my parents' eyes when they fell from the trapeze. I didn't see the fright. I have no idea what a dying man looked like. But then I saw it in Slade, Slade Wilson. I saw his eyes, Raven, and they'll haunt me to the end of my days."
He shivered and Raven wrapped her cloak around them both. She said nothing. She didn't have to. They sat there, on the roof, until morning.
Author's Note: There's a reason why Raven becomes Robin's "spiritual advisor."I'm neither a fan of Robin X Starfire or Robin X Raven pairings (I'm a Robin X Oracle/original Batgirl fan). However, of the two potential women in Robin's Teen Titan life, Raven seems the one more likely to understand him. Starfire is too...innocent and bubbly. Robin's history is a tragic one, and Raven would, in her own dark way, be more sympathetic to this. She, at least, can understand tragedy. Moreover, as the daughter of an evil being, she can understand having "familial" issues, as Robin and Batman eventually had.